I love that my room is all mine, that it has all my books in it, my art on the walls, my photos in frames. I can't tell whether it's a reaction to not sharing a room anymore, or a reaction to my first room of my own as an adult, or what. I can only imagine the feeling will intensify when I get my first apartment on my own.
If you look one way out my big windows, which cool my room so quickly I have to be careful about opening them, you can see big trees and blackberry bushes, and a sort of patio backyard. The other way, you see the alley that goes to Oxford St., which is the mechanism by which I can hear what my neighbors are doing. Most of the time there's nothing to complain about, although sometimes there's a late-night party, or a loud person on a phone, or that kid who's apparently learning to play the clarinet (not that there's anything wrong with that, but beginning clarinetists are awful to listen to). It's lovely after yoga to lie in savasana and hear the rush of cars and the whisper of voices come in through the window.
This is also the time of year where I catch sunset every day from my window at work, facing the bay from six stories up in the Berkeley hills. It pretty much never fails to be beautiful, always in a different way, unless it's seriously cloudy or raining. Today the sun set into a large bank of clouds over San Francisco, and turned the sky and the bay pale orange. It's the water that really makes the view so lovely, I think, the way it reflects the sky but also changes it.
I'm still looking forward to travelling, though, and seeing Ben in Los Angeles and my family and friends in Los Alamos. Do you guys have any special plans for the holidays?